Preacher on an Airplane

Thinking on what to write for this story, to write a story with the subject of “in flight”, I was surprised to recall several interesting stories of my prior flight adventures, even though they are probably small in comparison to others. If you know me, you know I would rather drive than fly.

Anytime you squeeze 85 to 100 people in a small vessel, shooting through the sky, you are bound to come up with some interesting tales. Just this week I read about a pilot flying from South Africa and half-way through the flight he felt something slithering around his feet. It was a cobra, and he had to keep his wits about him for another 10-15 minutes before landing, so the snake would not bite him. Can you imagine? And can you imagine if the snake had bit him and the plane had crashed? We all would have no clue a cobra caused the crash. There would be no record of it on the black box. Just another plane down. Lives lost and never any explanation to the airline or the family members losing loved ones.

But this story is not about that. Until this subject was brought up, I had almost forgotten about this story, and it is a true story. It is a story that deserves mentioning and recording so I will tell it to you.

Two years ago, my dad had some blood clots that had moved from his legs to his lungs. He was in Durango, Colorado and felt so bad he checked himself into the hospital. If he had been in Texas where we live, he would not of even known, due to no elevation. Being in Colorado on the side of a mountain and the elevation, he did feel it and that probably saved his life. I tell him this all the time, but I don’t think he believes me. If you knew my dad, you would know he had to feel extraordinarily bad to check himself into a hospital. The man could be on his death bed and swear he was okay. Both my parents are this way, so I must keep a close eye on them.

My mom and I were in Texas when he told us this, so we dropped everything, loaded up her car and her dog and started driving to Colorado. It was a long drive I am not going to lie. Those big air windmill turbines line the sky and seem endless. There is no scenery, only road, small towns, more road and you drive and drive through Texas like you are stuck in a time warp of turbines and dust.

We finally make it Durango about the time he is released from the hospital. Of course, he claims he is fine, and I stick around a few days and then fly back to Texas on my own.

I booked myself first-class to fly back, but that did not happen. I was booted from first class and the lady behind me was more upset about it than I was. I was just ready to be home and complaining was not going to help or get me home any faster. The Durango airport reminds me of the Santa Fe airport. Small, one coffee and sandwich shop, a few flights in and out and that is about it. Nothing fancy or never ending like Atlanta, Los Angeles or Dallas. Smaller airports are much preferred by me. A lot of people running around, kids screaming, baggage everywhere, airplanes in and out, shops, carts racing around, and all that craziness raises my anxiety. Don’t get me wrong, I love people watching, but big airports can be quite overwhelming to the not frequent flyer.

So, I do finally make it on the airplane and start reading my book. I always read books on airplanes or other public places to discourage conversation with the public but am always conscious of my surroundings and my next door, ahead and behind seat neighbors when I fly.

There is an older couple in the row beside me and I note how cute they are as an older couple, paying attention to each other and discussing their upcoming flight. We are all buckled up and the flight attendant goes through her spiel about the exit doors and flotation devices. I always pay attention because you just never know; even though I am exhausted and somewhat emotional, and I am hardly ever emotional.

Once in flight, the older gentleman in the row across from me leans over, interrupts my reading and asks me if I live in Dallas. Somehow, he already knew I was not just traveling from Colorado, and I am not sure how. I was not wearing a “Stars at night are big and bright” t-shirt or cowboy boots, no cowboy hat, nothing that would specify my domicile.

I explained my dad had been in the hospital and I was headed home to Houston. He asked what my dad’s name was. I thought this was extremely odd, but I complied and told him my dad’s name is Carl. I usually do not divulge personal information to strangers. He said he would pray for him. I thought “great” and thanked him, but still thought the exchange was a little odd. I went back to reading my book.

About 10 minutes later, out of the blue, he grabs my arm and says, “I prayed for your dad, and he is going to be okay”. Tears welled up in my eyes I am sure of it, and I know I was completely taken off guard by his action and words. I replied, “thank you I really appreciate it”. Between you and me though, I was at a loss for words. I did not engage with this couple, or this man, before this exchange. Out of the blue he seemed to sense my worry and thoughts, had prayed for my dad without even knowing him and told me everything would be okay.

He then told me he was a preacher from Louisiana. Now, this made the whole encounter even more bizarre to me, but I took it for what it was. I took it as a sign of grace and a sense and consoling from a higher power telling me everything was going to be okay. I must tell you I am more of a spiritual person than a religious one. I have a pretty good poker face and do not wear my emotions or thoughts on my sleeve and keep to myself. For this older man to ask me direct questions and then grab my arm and tell me he had prayed for my dad, and everything was going to work out was astronomical to me and it soothed my soul.

I don’t know if you believe in Leprechauns and such, but there has been a time or two in my lifetime I have encountered strangers that resound for the moment. They are there. Their presence, awareness and actions echo in space and time when there is otherwise emptiness but not necessarily a void. We will call it a shared space in time. This time happened to be in flight and at a time when I did not even know that I needed it.

I don’t remember if he ever gave me his name or if I gave him mine. The purpose of me getting bumped from first class was to sit next to this couple, him in a wheelchair, a supposed preacher, but still giving out his soul, kind words and prayers to a stranger sitting next to him in the air. I told him thank you but will never be able to tell him how much I needed those kind words at that time; and I will never forget it.